


Wayward Presence

by Adoravel_Fenomeno



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, The Wicked Powers Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - High School, Artist! Kit, Boarding School, Boarding School AU, Canon Autistic Characters, Canon Queer Characters, Dark Academia, Dark Academia AU, Dark Magic, Fluff, High School AU, Kit is Confused, Light Angst, M/M, Necromancy, Pining, Private School, Scholomance, School Uniforms, Secrets, Sneaking Out, Teenagers, at least at the end, but it’s slower than I’m used to, i don’t think it can be considered slow burn, or at least an attempt at it, self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:38:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24530167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adoravel_Fenomeno/pseuds/Adoravel_Fenomeno
Summary: It’s a new year at Scholomance, and Kit can’t wait to escape it. But, when he meets a mysterious girl and her stunning twin brother, he may change his mind.…A mundane AU where Ty and Kit go to Scholomance, an elite boarding school, and try to resurrect the dead.
Relationships: Livia Blackthorn & Tiberius Blackthorn & Kit Rook, Tiberius Blackthorn/Kit Rook
Comments: 15
Kudos: 56





	Wayward Presence

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve recently re-watched Kill your darlings and Dead poets society, so I just had to write a dark academia AU
> 
> I also made a playlist on Spotify to listen while reading this! You can check it out here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3qeWtVdGgmA5RIe28gVzqt?si=FipAS46ARjiGBsUITOtalw  
> I kinda thought about it considering the approx. reading time and how things developed in my story, but, unfortunately, I didn’t remember that mobile free Spotify doesn’t let you listen to the songs in order *facepalm*. I don’t know how tf I forgot it, I don’t even have premium Spotify. Well, I’m sure the playlist will fit in with the mood anyway.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

Second of September, 2019

The ancient and prestigious Scholomance for exceptional students opened its doors again, and Kit wanted to vomit. The large brick and stone building stood on the hill, bur oak trees towering around it, dark green contrasting with vivid red. The black birds that pestered the place cackled, a few of them flying through the constantly-grey skies. The gigantic patio covered with pavement plaques had strips of fresh grass between them, white grids protecting the small samples of nature. Tall marble tables were scattered around, and he could almost see the teens sitting on them to read or eat snacks in between classes. A beautiful sight, that much Kit couldn’t deny. He himself had drawn the same gloomy landscape many times before. Drawn it with hatred, but drawn all the same.

“Did you get all of your notebooks?” Tessa asked, turning the car’s key and looking at him through the rear-view mirror.

Lines adorned her eyes, concern clear on her face. Despite their young age, Jem and Tessa had had a daughter a few months before, little Wilhelmina. Kit adored her as he had never adored anything in his life. However, even with her lovely looks, she gave a lot of work. More so than Kit, an impressionable feat. That was why Jem couldn’t be with him for the first day of school. Not that Kit felt upset. If Jem had gone with them, Mina would’ve had to stay with the neighbor who smelled like cigarettes and cotton candy perfume. No one would like to stay with her. But Jem had an amazing ability to comfort him, and, at that time, he needed all the comfort he could get.

“Yeah, don’t worry.” He opened the door of the car and stared at the patio. “I’ll be fine.”

A man in suit and tie shouted directions to lost parents, their bored children carrying heavy suitcases and cackling like the undignified crows. An Elite-only school, they said. Only wealthy kids and geniuses of the generation were admitted. That was why, perhaps, that Kit felt so out of place.

He had never been smart. Quick and witty, yes, but not smart. He had never been rich either. Running, scraping, and begging was unknown to the other students, whose perfect world differed so much from his. He couldn’t understand the appeal of tennis courts, starched clothes, and Lamborghinis. Unless it was to steal them, of course.

Because that had become another problem. Stealing. It hadn’t started as anything grave, a few packets of candy at the supermarket, or pens at the dollar store. When he came to himself, jewelry, sunglasses, and watches that were worth more than his inner organs combined hid in his pockets. Even though the incidents occurred only because of his dad, the habit didn’t cease when Johnny died. It never ceased. No matter how Tessa and Jem behaved around him, he always spent the afternoon apex at the small bookshop next to their house checking for cameras.

Tessa and Jem were nice about it, though. They were nice about everything. He could steal or run away for days on end, they welcomed him with warm hugs and offers to talk about it. He never took them.

Even concerning his issues at school, of which they were both aware of, Tessa and Jem kept their loving etiquette. Not that it was actually Kit’s fault. He rarely did anything wrong, but girls with pointy noses and boys with styled hair detested him. And the teachers, overlooking his average grades and splendid stillness in class, kept sending him to the Principal’s office for the most trivial upsetments. Down to the diplomas and photos of students on the wall, to the small Scholomance flag in the pencil holder, and the sickening smell of artificial vanilla, Kit knew that place better than he knew his own dorm. Even with the promise that he would be a better-behaved boy, the punishment still came every goddamn year in the form of a little trip to the office.

Despite all his protests and prayers, he came back to Scholomance every semester. First-day anxiety is normal, Kit repeated in his head. It will pass. Everything passes. He fondled with the lapels of the thick uniform coat that dragged uncomfortably on his skin. A few more years and he would be free.

“Be careful, okay? I believe in you, but…” Tessa pressed her lips together in a thin line. “You never know.”

Except he did. The events of the previous year… He knew exactly what she was talking about.

Kit’s pale blond hair fluttered in the cold mountain wind as he got out of the car and opened the trunk, Tessa right after him. He didn’t have many belongings, only carrying a light suitcase. ‘If you have too much shit it’ll be harder to run away’, as his father used to say. Tessa and Jem didn’t like that philosophy, but it was already ingrained on his mind. The idea that he had to run, cutting the air and leaving only smoke behind. Get away from that profane school, because he would rather live as a homeless teenager squatting in empty houses without showering than stepping foot into that institution.

“I swear it gets better.” Tessa wrapped her thin cardigan around herself, still wearing her concerned face. “Just… Just try to blend in. Things are worse when you feel lonely. Make some friends, have fun.”

“But not too much fun.”

“Not too much fun,” she agreed. “I don’t want you getting in trouble.” Kit had to drop his suitcase on the ground when Tessa gave him a tight hug. “I want you to be okay.”

“I will,” he mumbled over her hair.

He had to be, didn’t he?

…

Twenty-fourth of September, 2019

“... and that’s why Mercutio had to kill Juliet. For Romeo, it was all for Romeo, for life was nothing but torture without his beloved by his side. And Juliet seemed set on making Mercutio cry in agony.”

The teacher took her glasses off to rub her eyes and look at Kit. “Why do you think I can’t accept that?”

Standing in front of her desk, Kit tried to divert his eyes from her face to the carefully organized stack of papers she had been correcting. A forgotten cup of coffee laid between them, the liquid already greyish and disgusting. The half-closed windows dimmed the light, creating shadows that hit the teacher’s face in a way that made her look even older. Her red lipstick was smudged, and Kit resisted the urge to tell her that she had a bit on her teeth.

He shrugged, turning the cap of his blue pen in his stained hands and looking for a reason not to approve his high-quality writing. “Because it’s a semi-erotic gay romance with graphic murder?”

“No.” The teacher scowled. “Although that’s also a valid reason.” She put her glasses back on her wrinkled face and leaned back completely on the chair. “I asked for an expository-argumentative essay on Shakespeare, Christopher. You gave me fiction based on Romeo and Juliet. Can you see the difference?”

“It’s Kit.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Kit. Can you see the difference or not?”

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry for wasting your time,” he said. He wasn’t sorry at all, though. That text had been the only fun thing he did since he arrived at school.

That and his morning pickpocketing sessions.

“It’s alright. Take it back-” she handed him the paper full of red lines, “-and bring me something else tomorrow. It’ll worth half the credits.”

He took the papers and nodded. “Thank you.”

The hallways, when Kit abandoned the room, were brimming with teenagers screaming and throwing paper airplanes around. The usual groups flocked together: girls with good grades and conventionally attractive boyfriends; disgusting male specimens who sat on the back of the classroom and made too much noise; the kids who were quiet and shy, but still made their miserable existence known by raising their hands in math lessons. In the past, he had tried to blend in (Tessa’s order). It never worked out. They always rolled their eyes and snickered at him. So he stopped altogether.

A few kids in dark red jumpers and ultramarine coats brushed past him on his way to the stairs. The polished, artificially beautiful type of kids, the ones who got good grades ad bragged about it, who played tennis on sunny afternoons and golf with their parents on weekends. The ones who aspired to go to Harvard, and would manage to do it. The ones who drove expensive cars and had fat allowances, who didn’t have to care about him at all, but cared anyway, because they were bored and he seemed the kind of person who could spark off some thrill. They passed by him knocking shoulders and spitting slurs.

What a wonder to be a teenager.

Not that he cared much. He didn’t. They could knock shoulders, laugh and offend all they wanted. It didn’t change the fact that the brunette boy had lost twenty bucks the other day (with them, Kit bought a succulent he kept on his windowsill), the blonde girl didn’t have any more bobby pins nor purple pens (only out of spite. He didn’t use them all that much), and the tall boy… Kit had material proof of the tentacle porn comics he hid under his bed. It didn’t matter Kit had no one in his life, because his dad had taught him all he needed to know: Power wasn’t about what you said, it was about what you knew.

Rain poured heavily against the big windows on the staircase. Kil could see students covering their heads with books and running to secure themselves under the awnings in the patio. The incoming storm sounded similar to rocks hitting on pavement, like children playing hopscotch. Like Kit used to do in his childhood, living in Silver Lake with his dad.

The laughing, the bright crayon colors, his dad calling for him. Falling, scraping his knees, getting up again. The blood on concrete, the smell of antiseptic. Los Angeles. His childhood.

He used to run, untamed and free. In the forest, on the streets, inside his house. It didn’t matter. He always ran. From where he stood stone-still on the stairs, an itch in his legs arose, a near-panic alarm reverberating in his skull. He couldn’t handle it anymore. Couldn’t handle the cold brick of the walls, his teachers’ scowling faces, his classmates’ fucking laughter, the clouds, the sun, the whole fucking sky, anything. He couldn’t handle anything.

“Heavy rain, huh?”

Kit jolted when he heard the voice, turning to look at the girl by his side with widened eyes. On her tiptoes, leaning towards the window, her hands glued to the glass, she appeared to be seeing something much more exciting than a bunch of teenagers running around like chickens.

“Who are you?” he asked.

She smiled, still not looking at him, and put a lock of brown hair behind her ear. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Her pale face, almost translucent, had prominent dark circles under the eyes. Her uniform was muddy and shriveled, the tie loose and the shirt untucked off of the knee-length plaid skirt. She stared at the window longingly, a light smile playing on her face. A bit disheveled and unkempt, but definitely a beautiful girl. In all his years attending Scholomance, Kit had never seen her.

“Yes, I would like to know.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I can’t give you an answer.”

And, promptly, took her hands out of the window, climbed down the stairs, and disappeared into the crowd. Without getting her name, Kit stood still, looking dumbfounded at the space the girl was filling not seconds ago.

…

First of October, 2019

Bitterness spread in Kit’s mouth whenever he remembered the episode.

Who was that girl? He had never seen her, even in all his attempts to talk to pretty much every student in Scholomance. Maybe she was new. But why didn’t she want to give him her name? Why were her clothes so dirty? Why was she plaguing his head when he should have been planning an escape?

A chill ran down his spine and he snuggled up in the fluffy blankets.

Every girl he saw looked like the brunette he met on the staircase. Anyone with dark brown hair could be her. Or maybe her hair was lighter than that? Dark blonde? Or maybe auburn? Maybe she was the stuck up girl in his Geography class all along. Or his English teacher. As he saw more and more girls, her image turned blurry, like she was nothing but a dream. In fact, maybe she was. Kit’s memory of that day was only a smudge, lost in the cacophony of apathy he lived through. And he never saw her again. He might have gone insane. It wouldn’t have been a surprise.

The thick coat of his uniform couldn’t contain the warmth of his body, since he felt there was no warmth left at all. Scholomance’s climate shouldn’t have been a surprise, the school stood atop a mountain. But the cold he felt that time was different. It came from his bones. It came whenever the eerie girl came up.

“Dude,” his roommate said, “you should turn the volume down. I can hear it from here.”

Like his roommate, the most unpleasant dude bro Kit had ever met, had any high ground in that matter. The electronic beats he usually listened to bothered Kit to no end, but he never complained.

“Sorry.” Kit turned off his music and took off his headphones, trying to focus harder on his math homework. But he couldn’t do it. Too cold, too confused. Had he imagined it all?

The bitterness came back to his tongue.

He shouldn’t be thinking about that, though. About that random girl. He had to put together an escape plan. Because that was what he had to do. Escape.

Tessa and Jem would be disappointed. Sad. But they could get over it. They had Mina. Kit would be forgotten quickly. He could live in California again, feel the salt of the water and the fire of the sun. Or maybe he could go to Berlin, see the history museums and street art. Or to some Central American country, learn to speak Spanish and eat pepper.

Kit just had to leave. As simple as that.

And he had an exact schedule. When security was minimal, the night was dark, and the celestial bodies lined up perfectly, he would run. And that would be two weeks later. Only two weeks and he would be running again.

But, at that moment, before thinking about escaping school, he needed to leave the dorms. He needed to calm his brain down. And, as cold as he felt, there was only one place that could bring clarity to Kit’s mind.

His notebook, all the coats he had, and a blanket were in his arms when he left the dorm, saying goodbye to his roommate and slamming the door shut behind him.

The staircase that led to the school’s roof had no available entry for most students, guarded by a heavy metal door and a rusty padlock. With Johnny’s voice in his head and the blonde girl’s bobby pins, Kit managed to get through the door easily.

The icy wind cut his face, cooling him on the outside as much as he was cold inside. The sky was grey, as it always was in Scholomance, and the large courtyard of green lawns and white asphalt in which teenagers gathered could be seen from the top of the tall building, just like the large forest around the school and the semi-frozen lake in the middle of the woodland. Stunning, tenebrous, and painfully mundane, all at once. It both took Kit’s breath away and filled his stomach with disgust.

So he started drawing it.

The dark shadows, the light lines, everything reflected on paper. Again. As horrible Scholomance made him feel, he couldn’t stop drawing it. Picturing it on paper with circles and squares, as he never seemed to be able to do with words.

Before he could start outlining the green forest, the roof’s door opened.

He scrambled to get all his coats and blankets in his arms and run to a corner where the intruder, who was probably a teacher that had actual permitted access, wouldn’t be able to see him.

“You don’t need to hide,” a boy’s voice said. “I’m not gonna rat you out.”

Kit turned to look at the other student, who had a book in his hand and was staring wistfully at the view in front of them.

He thought, how beautiful. And the boy really was. Tall, taller than him, with dark hair falling on his eyes and white headphones wrapped around his neck.

Kit smiled at him. “Thanks.”

His long coat fluttered behind him, the blue and red scarf adorning his neck under his headphones. He had high cheekbones, and Kit could bet his eyes were beautiful, although he couldn’t see them from where he was sitting. 

Oh yes, Kit thought. The sheer homo-eroticism of a long coat.

A rush of cold air passed through them, making their hair flutter and a few loose sheets of Kit’s sketchbook detach, flying away to the boy’s feet.

“Are these your drawings?” the boy asked while picking them up from the ground and handing them back to Kit.

“Yeah.” Kit nodded dumbly, noticing the boy’s eyes were as grey as the storming skies. “A lot of landscapes, I know.”

“Not only landscapes, though.” He held a sheet of paper with a girl’s face drawn in it. The girl. He had drawn that right after meeting her, but the paper laid forgotten inside his sketchbook. Bitterness came back to Kit’s mouth and his body shivered. “Why did you draw her?”

“I don’t know,” Kit answered.

“Did you want to put it in the altar or something? No one puts anything there anymore.”

Kit looked at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“My sister.” He threw the sheet of paper in Kit’s direction and brought his hands to his headphones, fiddling with the wires and looking at the ground. “You don’t need to put anything in the altar if you don’t want to. I know you didn’t meet her.”

Kit looked at his drawing, at the girl smiling sadly at the window, dark hair framing her face.

He swallowed the urge to throw up.

“I saw her on the stairs the other day. I don’t know why I drew her, I just felt like it.”

The boy’s face paled and he widened his eyes. “That’s- No, that’s… You must be mistaken. Surely. I’m sorry. I won’t bother you anymore.”

“I’m pretty sure this was the girl I saw the other day, yes.” Kit laughed. “I wouldn’t draw someone I had never seen, huh?”

“I…” The hand that wasn’t wrapped around his headphone wire fluttered nervously by his side. “My sister… She isn’t here anymore. I must be mistaken, I'm so sorry.” He turned on his back and headed towards the exit.

“Oh,” Kit said loudly so the boy could hear. “She moved schools? So that’s why I didn’t see her anymore.”

“No,” staring at the handle, he replied. “My sister died last year.”

“She... Wait-” Kit called him, but he was already opening the door to leave the roof. “Wait a minute!” He rushed to get up, jogging up to the exit. “What do you mean she’s dead?”

Stopping on his track down the stairs, without looking at him, the boy answered, “I mean she’s not alive anymore.”

“But what do you mean she’s not alive anymore?”

“You know, kids have no comprehension of the concept of mortality, so-”

“No! But-” Kit shook his head in confusion. “But I saw her.”

“You must have imagined things.”

“Stop saying that. I saw her, I know I did.”

“You’re hallucinating.” He continued climbing down the stairs.

Kit followed, trying to keep up with his fast pace. “What was her name?” He stumbled on one of the steps, but recovered quickly. “She didn’t want to talk to me.”

“Livvy,” the boy muttered. “Livia Blackthorn.”

“And yours?”

“Tiberius Nero Blackthorn,” he said. “But you can call me Ty.”

And he banged the door behind him.

…

Third of October, 2019

The walls painted red and blue formed an obscene figure that teachers and students faced, making giggles and grunts that could be heard from the other side of the campus.

A middle-aged teacher, who wore tweed and had as his only notorious gratification the ability to keep a mustache even bigger than his ego, kept going on and on about the immaturity of the student who dared to touch the precious stone and brick walls of the institution. The lady next to him, who Kit believed was the director's secretary, kept stroking his arm, trying futilely to calm him down. The group of girls behind Kit whispered about the woman's impending marriage and her intimate relationship with more than half of the student body, mustache professor included. Kit would have liked to say he was above petty gossip, but that would be a lie. The girl with a high-pitched voice dived into the story of the secretary’s fiance and he could not be more interested.

"-you explain that, Mr. Rook?"

Kit shifted his attention back to what the man was talking about. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Some students giggled and the murmur grew louder in the group, causing a teacher who was hitherto quiet and leaning against the wall to straighten up and shout at everyone to shut up.

"Mr. Rook," he repeated, "how can you explain your signature next to this-" a grimace appeared on his face, "work of art?"

"I didn't do it."

"Of course not. That's why they signed your name, right? Because you did nothing.”

"No," Kit shook his head. “I really didn’t do anything. I swear to you, I had nothing to do with this.”

The man dropped his shoulders and rubbed his temples. “Just go to the principal’s office. I don’t have time for this bullshit.” The secretary started massaging his shoulders and whispering in his ear.

“The rest of you, scatter. We don’t need everyone here to clean it up,” the quiet teacher commanded.

Kit made his way to the marble pillars that guarded the main staircase. Pamphlets about study groups, classical music presentations, and lectures by famous writers adorned the walls, some of them falling off and landing on the steps, where they would be crushed by the feet of hurried students. Kit walked slowly, watching all the advertisements just to find out that nothing interested him. Not that he would participate in any activity anyway. Just 12 more days and he would be out of Scholomance. He couldn’t be interested in any of that.

The high ceilings and polished stone walls of the corridors that led to the principal’s office had a particular kind of darkness in them. It could be the general creepy aesthetics of the antiquated school, or the fact that they echoed a lot. 

When Kit heard the hushed whispers coming from the next corridor, he couldn’t help himself. Facing the principal for something he didn’t do sounded extremely unappealing - especially since he had done that many times before -, and spying on other students was a much better alternative.

The handsome boy he had met on the roof stood right in the middle of the hallway with a hunched posture, staring at the ground. Still wearing the black long coat, the headphones, and carrying a big book. And he was talking… to no one.

No one, because the floating girl had the same opaqueness of parchment paper. The texture of the stone and the bookshelf could be seen through her as if she didn’t exist. But she did. He shrugged off the chill that threatened to run down his spine and narrowed his eyes to see the image better.

Upon closer inspection, it was just a pretty boy talking to himself.

And Ty had said she had died the year before, so Kit should believe him. Why would anyone lie about their sister’s death? No, Kit’s mind conjured the image by itself. He had to be seeing things.

“-stand it anymore, Livs. I’m doing it now.” Ty tightened his hold on the book he was holding.

“You can’t,” the almost-not-there girl replied. “It’s dangerous.”

“It’s been a year. I can do it now, so I’m doing it now.”

“Why are you doing it at all? Isn’t this enough for you? Am I not enough for you?”

Kit fought the bile rising in his throat, and started tiptoeing his way out. He shouldn’t have heard that conversation. No, it was better to leave them alone. To stop thinking about them. He had a plan to follow, he couldn’t get attached to Scholomance at that moment. Trying to leave the corridor in the quietest way possible, he ended up tripping on his own feet and falling face-down into the floor.

“Who is there?” Ty asked.

“No one.”

Ty made his way to the corner, looking behind the protruding that Kit had hidden in, and sighed upon the view of the blond boy lying on the floor.

“You again?”

“Sorry,” Kit muttered. “I didn't mean to interrupt.”

Livvy still looked like something Kit couldn’t see with his own eyes, but with his whole body, as if his senses screamed that someone was there, but the person didn’t exist. She floated beside her brother, and said, “Hello, Kit,” with a pleasing smile.

“How-” Kit tried to get up, but his knees were too weak, so he sat on the floor instead. “How do you know my name?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been wandering around. Ended up finding a lot of hidden things.”

“Like my name?”

“Like everything about you. Little runaway, huh?”

“Livvy,” Ty chided her. “Leave him alone.”

After some disturbing seconds in uncomfortable silence, Kit decided to leave that mess. He shouldn’t have been there in the first place.

“I gotta… I gotta go. Principal’s office and all that.”

“Right,” Ty said as he extended his hand to help Kit up. “You didn’t see anything.”

“No,” Kit agreed. “I didn’t see anything.”

…

Fourth of October, 2019

“Ty Blackthorn?” His roommate turned to look at him. “No, I don’t think so. But like… No one talks to him. We didn’t talk to him even before… Well, before. He was always kind of weird.”

“Kind of weird like what?” Kit asked, sitting on his already made bed.

The boy frowned. “He never looks at our face when we talk to him. He always has his headphones on. Like, always. And he also stares at the ground a lot. It’s a bit rude, don’t you think? Like he doesn’t care about what we’re saying.”

Of course he doesn’t, Kit thought. Who would? But he also had noticed those tics. When Johnny was still alive, Kit used to go to a school that had a lot of kids in the autism spectrum. He had just assumed Ty was in it too. But maybe the boy felt uneasy next to him. Kit also only talked about his dead sister with him, so he couldn’t blame the poor dude for being uncomfortable.

“I think he’s just overwhelmed. It seems reasonable to me.”

His roommate raised his hands in redemption. “If you wanna hang out with the freak, be my guest,” he snorted. “You two fit in well with each other.”

“You know what?” Kit got up from the bed and made his way to the door. “Fuck you. And fuck your friends too. Fuck all this.”

When he slammed the door behind him, he heard his roommate’s voice muttering ‘okay, edgelord’. He gritted his teeth in rage and walked faster in the direction of the main common area.

Kit usually avoided that place. It was crowded, full of expensive furniture and boring-but-obligated social pleasantries. Regardless of that, he needed information, and someone there could know something.

On one of the loveseats in front of the fireplace, talking to some of her friends, sat the stuck up girl that had Geography with him. Getting closer, he grabbed her shoulder and asked about the Blackthorns.

“Let go of me, creep,” she screeched. He couldn’t blame her; if someone grabbed him like that he would also be offended.

“Just tell me where Livvy’s altar is.”

“Ugh.” She shrugged her arm out of his hold. He let his hand fall on his side. “Somewhere upstairs. I think it’s near the computer lab.”

He didn’t even bother thanking her, he knew she wouldn’t appreciate it.

While jogging to get to the expected place, he heard her mumbling ‘weirdo’. She wasn’t wrong about that either.

He ran up the stairs, not caring if he bumped on someone. He needed to know. He needed to know more, even if he didn’t care about Scholomance. Even if he wanted to run away. That could wait a bit. He needed to make sure Ty wasn’t just messing with him, and, then, he could continue to plan his getaway.

Next to the computer lab, in a dark corner of the most unused hallway of Scholomance, photos of the girl filled a bookcase next to flowers and unlit scented candles. It was a large altar, with letters, statues and books standing there, all the proof that Livvy once lived, and that she lived no longer.

All the proof that Kit had gone insane.

Every film’s plot started out like that. Seeing a dead girl, trying to convince everyone that he wasn’t in an elevated schizophrenia stage, ending up in a mental hospital. No, he couldn’t tell anyone that that was happening. A quick stop at the psychological wing of the hospital wasn’t in his plans.

But Ty talked to his own hallucination. And he saw it. Tiberius talked to a girl supposedly dead, and no one else seemed to notice them. And he didn’t even deny it, he just said ‘you didn’t see anything’, which is the most incriminating thing anyone could say.

Which meant that Kit wasn’t crazy. Or, at least, he wasn’t crazy alone.

…

Fifth of October, 2019

“What are you doing here?” Ty asked, the wind disheveling his dark hair.

“Following you,” Kit replied.

“And why are you following me?”

Kit didn’t know, not really. He saw the boy walking down the corridor, and a magnetic pull took shape in his belly. He didn’t know if it was pure curiosity, or some kind of twisted adoration for Ty.

As an artist, he knew how to admire a bitter beauty. As a horny teenager, he knew how to admire a pretty face.

“I think I deserve some answers,” Kit answered instead.

“Why the roof, though?” Ty muttered under his breath. “What do you want to know?”

Kit sat down on the cold stone, in front of him. The dark grey of the sky showed a sign of an impending storm, black clouds swimming in the great depths of nothing. The books and papers around Ty were scattered, annotations in the margins made with a small and round handwriting, stains of black pen on the yellowed paper.

“Explain everything. Starting with her death.”

Ty looked away at the black birds that fled rapidly to the sky when the church bell banged three times. His hands were tangling and untangling his headphone’s wires, which sat on his neck, the sound of violins so loud even Kit could hear them.

“She was alive, then she died. There’s nothing more to it.”

Ty seemed incredibly uncomfortable, with his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes glazing at anything but Kit’s face. But Kit wanted answers, so Ty had to deal with it.

“Don’t lie to me,” Kit said as he leaned forward. “I know there’s more. Why didn’t I know she had died? Why can I see her? Why can you see her? Why can no one else see her? Why-”

“No one should see her,” Ty interrupted. “Not me, not you. I don’t know why we can. We just do.”

“Is she, like, a ghost?”

Ty scowled and turned to look at some point near Kit’s sternum. “I don’t like that word.”

“Spirit, then?”

“That implies she’s completely dead.”

A sudden and intense urge to throw up emerged in Kit’s stomach. He pushed it down, like he had been doing with his ever-growing coldness. Like he had been doing with his instincts, telling him to forget all about the Blackthorns and run away.

Kit stared at him in confusion. “Isn’t she completely dead?”

“Not for long.” He gestured at all the books and notes in front of him. “She’s coming back.”

“Like… magic?” Kit snorted. “That’s not real.”

“Neither were ghosts,” he snapped back. “But here we are.”

He supposed Ty was right. If he could see a fucking ghost, why couldn’t necromance be real? “But here we are,” Kit agreed.

His dad had always said that there was more to the world than Kit imagined. Much more. In his vacation, he saw Tessa drawing tarot cards for Jem, and a friend of theirs visiting so he could make some kind of safety consecration in little Min-Min. So he supposed there could be something behind the veil of reality, he just had never considered it.

The dark-haired boy continued reading his book, mumbling some words and twirling his headphone wires with his hand.

“But, hey,” Kit called. Ty didn’t look up from his book. “Why didn’t I know she had died?”

The boy shrugged, paying him no mind. “You were in the hospital at that time.”

Kit tilted his head, bafflement evident in his face. “How do you know I went to the hospital?” Intrusive.

“Everyone knows you went to the hospital.” He rolled his eyes. “You tried to run away and got hurt, right?”

“I didn’t try to run away, not exactly.” He crossed his legs in front of him, the itch emerging in his legs once again. “It was more of a sudden desire I couldn’t shake off.”

“You’re doing it better this time, then?” Ty finally looked up at him. For a second, their eyes met, and Kit felt his heart rate go up. How did he know? “Do you have a better plan? Or, at least, any plan at all?”

“I’m not running away again.”

“Who’s lying now?” Ty smiled faintly. “I know what you’re planning. Too twitchy for someone who wants to stay.”

Busted.

“I’m really not. I’m okay now.”

Ty shrugged and came back to his book, eyebrows raised and corners of his mouth slightly turned up. “I don’t believe it.”

Play it cool, Christopher.

“Okay, then, Sherlock, Think whatever you want. Doesn’t make it true.”

The dark-haired boy lifted his head immediately. “You read Sherlock Holmes?” Eyes glinting, his body moving forward, closer to Kit.

Oh. So that’s how he looked when he was excited about something. “Not all the books, but, yeah, a few,” he lied, not wanting to take away Ty’s beautiful expression of adoration. In actuality, he had only read a few pages of the first book and then watched the BBC tv show.

“Really?” Ty’s smile widened. “I adore Sherlock Holmes. I-” he hesitated, fiddling with his headphone wires faster. “I always wanted to be a detective because of him.”

Kit laughed, and Ty looked somewhere near Kit’s face with a confused expression. “Sorry,” Kit apologized. “I just think it’s funny you actually want to be a detective.”

“I do. That’s why I’m so sure you’re planning to run away.”

“I have to,” he gave up. Ty had already figured it out, it wouldn’t hurt to be honest. “I can’t stand it anymore.”

Ty moved his index finger side to side in denial. “You will run away, but, in reality, you don’t want to, do you?’

Kit snorted and relaxed his tense frame, laying back to support his weight in his hands. “Of course I want to. I don’t do anything I don’t want.”

“Then why are you talking to me, wanting to know about my sister, if you don’t want to stay?” He narrowed his eyes.

“Curiosity.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Ty unbent his knees and crossed his legs in front of him, mirroring Kit’s position. “You wouldn’t care if you were about to leave. I think you’re looking for a reason to stay. Am I wrong?”

Not wanting to confirm nor deny, Kit huffed and looked at the ground.

“I think I’m right,” Ty said. “And, if I’m your reason to stay, so be it.”

…

Seventh of October, 2019

"What do you think?" Ty asked, leaning close to Kit to circle a passage from the open book on the table.

In the candlelight, it was difficult to read the small letters, and Kit's eyes were already getting tired.

“Ty, it's three in the morning. If we stay here too long, they'll catch us. We should be in the dorm by now.”

Ty adorably scrunched his face. “But we still haven't found what we needed. Just a little more?"

Kit rubbed his eyes and leaned back on the chair, his body feeling heavy and his head starting to ache. “Sorry, but no. I feel like I’m about to pass out. We should go.”

Ty nodded, closing the necromancy book and getting up from the heavy wooden chair. "I have to give you something, though."

"What is it?" Kit asked, turning in his chair to watch the boy walk between the bookshelves in the library, the sash of his blue robe dragging on the floor.

"Wait for it," Ty said.

He took some time looking for the gift. When he back to the table where the two were scribbling books and making notes about ‘how to raise the dead 101’, he wore a shy expression, and had something hidden behind his back.

"So ..." Kit prompted.

Ty extended his arms, showing a dark magenta book to Kit. “It’s the edition that I had when I was I kid, so I… I hope you like it.”

“A Scandal in Bohemia,” he read out loud. "Is it your favorite book?"

Ty nodded. “It's the first novel that Sherlock Holmes actually loses. I was shocked when I read it at age eight. Do you-” he started fiddling with the collar of his sleep shirt. "Do you like it?"

"Yes," Kit smiled at him, who smiled back. "I love it."

Going back to his dorm, Kit tried his best not to make any noise and not wake anyone, but skipping and dancing seemed inevitable. He didn't know why he was feeling like that. But his cheeks burned to the touch, all the cold he had felt in the past few days replaced by and immense warmth.

His roommate was a heavy sleeper, not waking up when he opened the door and arranged his duvets to go to bed. In the moonlight, the beige room with band posters taped to the wall and clothes lying on the floor looked way less harmless than in daylight.

When Kit placed the cherished gift he had received from Ty on the end of the desk, a sheet of paper came off and flew to the floor. Kit bent down to pick it up. He feared it was a page from the book that had come loose, but, reading the contents of the sheet with difficulty due to the lack of light, he had a pleasant surprise.

It was a dedication.

For Kit, my dear friend. It may be that you are not yourself luminous, but that you are a conductor of light. Thank you for helping me so much with this particularly laborious case.

Kit’s cheeks burned up again.

...

Eight of October, 2019

“I just don’t understand,” Livvy complained, opening and closing her hand, trying to catch the object in front of her. “I could touch it before! Why is it like this now?”

“Try to focus, Livs,” Ty said as he munched on an apple and underlined something in his textbook.

The three of them were sitting on Ty’s bed, his feet over Kit’s lap. Livvy was in a kneeling position, fluctuating next to the blond boy, her arms extended to try to materialize her hands to touch the notebook that laid between them.

Morning light filtered through the window, everything looking soft and cozy. In Livvy’s presence, Kit’s body cooled and his stomach turned. Ty also had said that he couldn’t eat anything but fruits when Livvy was around, and Kit had noticed he always covered his fingers with his coat sleeves.

“What I don’t understand,” Kit started, “is why none of these books seem to agree on anything. I mean, do we need to sacrifice an animal or not?”

“I don’t think so,” Ty answered. “But if we do, we can’t forget to eat its meat after. Actually, it would be better if we had a part of your body, Livvy. I’ve read that eating the flesh of the target makes the connection easier.”

“Yikes. Thank god I was cremated.”

“You do have an object of hers, don’t you?” Kit rearranged Ty’s legs on his lap so he could stretch his own.

Ty pulled the collar of his shirt to reveal a shiny locket over his collarbones. Kit’s mouth instantly dried up. “I took it when we were on vacation.”

Livvy looked up at him, a frown on her face. She dropped her shoulders and grabbed her book with so much strength Kit could almost see her knuckles whitening, despite the impossibility of it. “How long have you been planning this?”

Ty shrugged. “Since I saw your ghost. Why?”

“Because,” she replied gritting her teeth, “I don’t want you to do it. And you have been planning this behind my back for over a year.”

“I told you before a year was completed, so, actually, I only did it behind your back for a few months. After that, I was pretty clear about my intentions.”

Livvy groaned loudly and vanished from the room.

Warmth came back to Kit’s body, his stomach muscles loosening and the bad taste disappearing from his mouth. “Well.” Kit slapped Ty’s shins lightly. “I don’t think you should have done that.”

“She just doesn’t understand. She’ll come around to it later.”

Kit was inclined to disagree. She was the one being resurrected, wasn’t her opinion the one that mattered the most?

“But why do you want to do it?”

Ty retracted his legs and sat up straight, staring at the ground. “She’s my twin. I need her here with me.”

“But she is here,” Kit counter-argued. "Just not the way you want her to be.”

Ty shook his head and started playing with the cuffs of his sleeves. “Not the way she wants to be.”

“But she doesn’t want to be resurrected either. Don’t you think it would be better for her to… move on or something?”

Ty shook his head even faster, his fingers grabbing the shirt sleeve to an almost tearing point. “And leave me? No. No, I need her here. I can’t, Kit, I can’t live without her.”

“But it’s what she wants to do.”

“Why would you say that?” Ty’s voice sounded so fragile. Kit felt the urge to lean forward and hold him, but he restrained himself. It was not the time for such thing. “If you want out, you can go. I’ll do this by myself.”

“No,” Kit answered. “I’m by your side no matter what.”

…

Twelfth of October, 2019

“Do you think I’ll die if I try out drugs?” Kit asked, face down in bed, sprawled like a very stressed starfish. “They say it can reduce anxiety.”

The stars shined bright in the dark sky, visible through the window. It was one of the rare days that clouds didn’t take up the whole space, making everything look more special than usual.

“Well, that depends on the drugs,” Ty said while his Nintendo made a squeaking noise from the cutesy animal game he had been playing. “But, of course, you would know that more than I do.”

Kit lifted his head to look at where Ty was sitting on the table. “Are you saying I look like a stoner?”

“I’m saying you look like a crackhead.”

Kit threw a pillow at him.

“I’m serious, Ty. This assignment is killing me. How am I supposed to write an essay on John Steinbeck? The guy lived and then died. The end. There’s nothing interesting about him.”

“Yeah, Kit,” Ty said as he got up and returned the pillow to the bed. He sat next to Kit on the bed, dipping the mattress and obligating him to leave his lying position. “It’s an assignment. It’s not supposed to be interesting.”

Kit groaned and dropped his head on the boy's shoulder. “I can’t take school anymore.”

“No problem. You’ll run away soon, won’t you?”

“How can you say that?” He nudged Ty’s ribs gently. “You convinced me to stay and now you’re kicking me out again?”

Ty laughed and got up from the bed, pulling Kit with him. “C’mon, drama queen. Let’s go to the library. I can show you something.”

Kit looked at the window, and then at the clock hung on the beige wall. “It’s curfew, though. I should get to my room.”

“When did we ever care about curfew?” Ty whispered as he opened the door and checked outside for monitors and snitches.

And he was right. Since they became friends, all the innocence Kit claimed had gone down the drain. How could he avoid it when Ty took his hand and showed him facts about nature, technology, and the entire universe that he had never thought to search before? Sleepless nights researching rituals in Ty's room, or in the library, schoolwork done hastily just before class because they forgot that anything existed beside themselves, walks along the half-frozen lake with Livvy at their side. Oh yes, Kit would do anything for the boy.

Their socked feet were silent when they stepped on the wooden floor of the quiet corridors. Kit tried to walk slowly and be careful, but Ty’s fast pace wouldn’t allow it. Accustomed to walking the school in the dead of the night, they weren’t too worried about monitors and teachers wandering around. ‘They’re all predictable,’ Ty had said on the first night. ‘We just have to figure out their patterns.’

Ty opened the library door, pulling Kit to follow him to one of the rows in the back of the room, both boys laughing quietly as they always did when they managed to sneak out. 

The smell of naphthalene and old books that Kit came to associate with Ty filled his nose, the carpet soft under his feet, and Ty’s hand warm in his. Ty grabbed a few books that Kit couldn’t see the title due to the darkness. After grabbing candlesticks and matches from the librarian’s counter (Ty didn’t like to use their phone’s light, saying that candles were betting for that kind of thing. Kit had to admit it was way more atmospheric.), they headed for a table in the center of the venue.

“Here it is-” Ty opened one of the books he picked up, “-one of the several pages of John Steinbeck’s biographical texts.”

Kit chuckled. “I can’t believe we broke curfew to do homework.”

“No, no.” Ty shook his head. “We’re not doing homework. Homework is boring. We’re making a major investigation on John Steinbeck. Look here.” He pointed at a part of the text. “He dropped out of college. Stanford college. Just like you wanted to do. What do you think was his reason?”

“I don’t know.” Kit shrugged. “I don’t know anything about his life.”

Ty took another book and opened it in the Steinbeck section. “He decided he wanted to be a writer at age fourteen. His dad juggled multiple jobs, and he had three sisters. He grew up in California-” Ty poked Kit’s arm, “-just like you.”

Kit smiled at Ty’s teasing. “I guess then he wanted to be a writer and college was no use to him at that time or something.”

“Exactly. Isn’t that how you feel?” Ty closed the book he was holding and opened another.

“No. I don’t think school is useless to me.” He sat down in one of the chairs in front of him. “I just don’t think I can handle it anymore. Any of this, I mean.”

Any part of his life. He couldn’t handle any of it. He loved his family, he truly did, but he also didn’t know how to act around them. He was raised in such a different way, he couldn’t pretend he was someone as kind-hearted as Tessa and Jem.

Telling the truth to Ty wasn’t even a choice, he simply couldn't lie to him. It was like his brain short-circuited and he answered immediately what his heart told him to say. Born a liar and a cheat, being truthful gave Kit such a rush that his hands trembled slightly, wanting to either give more of himself to Ty or change his identity and flee the country.

Ty hummed. “But you can still write an essay about it, even if it’s not the same.”

“About what? The struggles of academic life?”

“The struggles of being a runaway locked into one place.”

Kit huffed, displeased, but he couldn’t deny it.

“Anyway,” he tried to change the subject back to the happy part, “is there anything else about this dude? I mean, how much of a good writer is he really?”

Ty chuckled and jogged to another part of the library, bringing another stack of books. He tossed them all on the table, making the candlelight waver. A huge smile broke his face, and, in the half-light, he was more beautiful than ever. His eyes shined, as they often did when they were in the library, his wild hair disheveled, and the school’s tie loosened. Seeing that image, Kit’s fingers twitched for his sketchbook and charcoal.

“‘I think perhaps I am one of those lucky mortals whose work and whose life are the same thing ’,” Ty said.

"What?"

“It's a quote of his, from Journal of a Novel. He really loved writing.”

"Do you have another one?" Kit asked, wanting to hear Ty’s voice in that proclamatory tone again.

Ty put his hand on his heart, right on top of the Scholomance emblem on his dress shirt. “'Our Father who art in nature, who has given the gift of survival to the coyote, the common brown rat, the English sparrow, the house fly and the moth, must have a great and overwhelming love for no-goods and blots-on-the-town and bums, and Mack and the boys.'” Ty tilted his chin up, as if talking to God herself. The candlelight shined on his face in such a way that every detail was softer, touchable and oh so sacred at the same time. “‘Virtues and graces and laziness and zest. Our Father who art in nature.’ That one is from Cannery Row.”

Kit clapped, smiling despite himself. Something in his chest melted, boiled water dripping in his inner organs. His heartbeats accelerated, and the urge to laugh, dance and scream at the same time emerged in his mind in a rush of adrenaline that came from who knows where.

"Another one."

Ty used a chair as a step to climb the table, book open in one hand, and the other dramatically gesturing his speech. Looking from below, Kit watched everything as a beggar prays for their god.

“'I have always lived violently, drunk hugely, eaten too much or not at all, slept around the clock or missed two nights of sleeping, worked too hard and too long in glory, or slobbed for a time in utter laziness.'” Ty kneeled on the table, bringing his face closer to Kit's and proclaiming the words with utter expression, “'I've lifted, pulled, chopped, climbed, made love with joy and taken my hangovers as a consequence, not as a punishment.'”

Kit laughed, bright and joyful, so happy to be alive, in that instant, with Ty in front of him, feverish and extraordinary.

“‘It is not good to want a thing too much ’,” Kit quoted, enjoying to see Ty’s face of surprise. It was a good thing he decided to make a research on some of the author’s stories beforehand. “‘It sometimes drives the luck away',” he cupped Ty’s warm cheeks in his hands, looking at him straight in the eye, even if the boy diverted his glaze. “‘You must want it just enough, and you must be very tactful with Gods or the gods.’”

Ty slowly got closer, his eyes fixating on the boy's mouth in front of him. The flushed cheeks, the glinting eyes and the pure joy on his face were too much for Kit, who had no other option but to lean in.

They were almost touching, noses already rubbing on each other. Kit’s hands caressed Ty’s cheeks while he raised his free hand to latch on Kit’s hair. They could feel the other’s breath in their faces, electricity running through their veins, flames eating up every trace of sanity in their brains. So close, so near, so close.

That was when the lights turned on.

They jumped out of their places, books falling to the floor and the candle being dropped by Ty’s shoulder, who bumped on it when he went down from the table.

“Who’s there?” an adult voice asked.

Kit and Ty ran to the back of the library, their socked feet, that previously had sounded so quiet, seemed to bang on the floor. Throwing themselves behind a bookcase, they heaved for air, the adrenaline of being found out making their hearts beat faster than the actual race did. Between the books, they could observe the professor, who was walking slowly through the aisles looking from side to side. He grunted a ‘dear lord’ when he got close to the table where Kit and Ty had sitten and saw the mess. Picking up one of the books, he widened his eyes at the fallen candle that had left wax and burn stains on the table.

“The books!” the teacher screeched. “You could’ve burned the books down! Hell, the whole library!” He snapped his head left and right, looking furiously at every corner of the room as if the intruders were going to appear in front of him. “This can be classified as terrorism!”

The man stomped his way down the aisles, seeming angrier and angrier, getting so near to the boys that Kit almost let out a gasp. Ty grabbed his hand, and, although Kit knew it was meant to calm him down, it only made his stomach drop.

The heavy thunk of books falling resounded through the place, the volume too loud for the dominating deadly silence. The teacher took a deep breath and frowned even more, marching to the other side of the library, where the noise had come from.

Taking the chance, Ty and Kit ran to the front door, their hands still intertwined. The moment the door closed both started laughing wildly. It could be the adrenaline, the thrill of doing something wrong, or simply the happiness of being together. They didn’t know, so they continued to laugh and run down the corridors until they passed the stone arches that marked the entrance to the courtyard.

“Do you wanna go to the woods?” Kit asked, not ready for the night to be over yet.

Ty nodded and squeezed Kit’s hand three times in a row, pulling him to the patio and over the fence at the border of the Scholomance property.

Walking through tall grass, the night seemed even more beautiful. Treetops blocked much of the sky, but the visible parts were still luminous and magical. They walked to the edges of the half-frozen lake, where the bur oaks could no longer prevent the view of the great sea of stars and the full moon, shining overhead.

“Ty,” a female voice called. “What the hell were you thinking?” Livvy appeared in front of them, the light from the sky streaming through her translucent body.

“Hi, Livs,” Kit greeted her.

“This is between me and my brother, Christopher.”

Ty dropped his hand from Kit’s hold, leading it to the wires of his headphones. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“You have to be more careful than that. You can’t just wander around Scholomance at night and not expect to be caught.”

“Jeez, Livia.” Ty scrunched his face. “It was nothing much.”

“It… What?” she huffed. “It’s like I don’t know you anymore. You were disrespecting the rules, Ty-Ty. I had to drop some books just to save your asses.”

“That’s why I need to resurrect you,” Ty mumbled.

“What?”

He looked up at his sister, staring at her right in the eyes like he rarely did. “Because I can change, like any normal person. But, like this, you’ll always stay the same.”

Livvy stared right back, her chin tilted up in a stubborn expression. “Then maybe you should just leave me for dead. You know, allow me to go in peace.”

“No!” Ty snapped. “I can’t do that. You- You can’t leave me here by myself.”

“You’re not by yourself.” She nodded in Kit’s direction, who was still standing in the corner doing nothing, watching the scene unfold.

“No.” Ty shook his head. “No, I need you. And, by Thanksgiving, I’ll have everything set up to bring you back.”

“Well, if it’s like this-”, she smiled sadly, “-then I’ll have to resist with all I’ve got.”

…

Thirteenth of October, 2019

The rapid rhythm of knocking on Kit’s door alarmed him of Ty’s presence on the other side. It was the middle of the afternoon, and Kit was sleeping on top of papers and notebooks that were lying on his messy bed, taking advantage of the time that his roommate wasn’t there to judge him.

He opened the door still rubbing his eyes, and met the beautiful image of an excited-looking Ty.

“Kit!” he exclaimed. “I need you to come with me.”

“Is it more research?” he asked while he adjusted his wrinkled shirt. “Because I don’t think I can handle more research. Ever.”

Ty shook his head, smiling wide. “No, it’s better.”

They rushed through the corridors, Ty chattering all the way and pulling Kit to follow him. They arrived at a dark alley between two Scholomance buildings, where the cement slabs in the courtyard gave way to freshly-cut grass.

"What did you want to show me?" Kit asked, looking at Ty and noticing the way the sunlight reflected perfectly on his face, making him even more angelic.

Ty pulled him by the sleeve, leading him to the end of the narrow alley. "Here it is," he said as he gestured to the floor.

Lying on what looked like a fluffy towel, or a folded blanket, was a small black kitten. It just stared at Kit with its big yellow eyes, and when Kit bent down to offer his hand, it bit his fingers.

"She's cute, isn't she?" Ty smiled, also bending down and successfully petting the kitten. "I named her Irene, like Irene Adler from the book I gave you." Of course he did.

And of course he wanted to keep that blood-lusted and violent animal. Because he was Ty, forever kind and merciful, always trying to do his best to make every living thing comfortable. And to make every dead thing alive again.

"I don’t think Scholomance allows us to keep pets." Kit narrowed his eyes in suspicion to Irene.

"Nobody has to know."

"But I do."

"I don’t mind if it’s you."

Kit felt himself blush and thought that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to keep that pest of a cat. It was to make Ty happy, anyways.

…

Fourteenth of October, 2019

Kit’s hands fell to his side, and he huffed in defeat. “I swear I don’t usually have problems doing this by myself.”

“Do you know what a pain in the ass it is taking care of you?” Ty said as he approached him, taking both ends of his tie and making a proper knot.

“You’re not obligated to do it, you’re helping because you want to.”

Kit’s hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t even hold the fabric properly. They hadn’t slept the night before, drinking gallons of iced coffee and more cans of red bull than they could count. Kit was weak with those things - he needed his beauty sleep, for god’s sake - and Livvy’s almost constant presence in the room didn’t help.

Necromancy study nights were usually spent in the library instead of Ty’s room. There were more references, more room to breathe, and more adrenaline when they sneaked out. But Ty’s room was also a good place, always empty due to the lack of a roommate since Livvy died.

“Do you think we’re ready to resurrect her?” Ty asked, his face close to Kit’s as he adjusted his collar.

Irene meowed from where she was lying in Ty’s bed. Kit smiled at her, but she just turned her face away.

“I don’t think we’ll ever be ready.”

Ty nodded, taking a step back to see the work done on Kit’s clothes. “Is it too tight? I often feel like my tie is suffocating me.”

“Nah, it’s good.” He smiled. “Thanks.”

They left the room, walking down the corridors full of teenage boys screaming and running back and forth towards the cafeteria.

While Kit laid his tray on the only empty table there, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket.

“Wait here,” he said, turning to look at Ty, who took off his headphones to hear him. “I need to answer my phone away from all this noise.”

Kit jogged to the large arch that marked the exit of the cafeteria, trying not to bump on the other students hurrying to have their breakfast. 

Tessa’s face shined on the screen of his phone, the programmed music insistent in his ears. It wasn’t uncommon for Tessa and Jem to call him, not at all, but the specific timing was peculiar. They knew he never woke up early, so, for fear of him being late to class, they usually called at night.

“Hello? Is everything alright?” Kit asked, worried. “Is Mina okay?”

“Everything’s okay,” Tessa’s tired voice answered. “And Mina is just fine. A bit noisy like she always is, but just fine. I just needed to call you to… Well, to see if you weren’t having any problems.”

“No more than usual.” He looked around to see if anyone was listening to the call, but all the other students in the hallway seemed extremely uninterested. “You know, some teasing here and there, and some visits to the principal’s office, but, other than that, I’m fine. Really.” He smiled at the phone. “Better now that I have a friend.”

“About him-” Tessa hesitated. “Are you sure everything’s alright?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?” Kit answered without a second thought. Ty was kind, interesting, and stunningly beautiful. He didn’t have any reason to believe their friendship was anything less than perfect. 

But then he remembered the ghost. Livvy. And why Ty didn’t like to call her a ghost. Because they were going to bring her back.

Yeah, maybe they had a few flaws.

“I don’t know… I-” she sighed, “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“About Ty, you mean.”

“No,” Tessa denied quickly. “Not about him. I’m sure he’s been a great friend to you.” Her voice went softer the edges when she talked to Kit like that. Like he was a little kid still learning how to make friends and not spit on his teacher’s face. Which he supposed he kind of was, after all. “I just… Some things are meant to happen. Inevitable. And when we try to fix them… The problem only gets worse.” Kit perked up at that. “I don’t want you getting hurt, okay?”

“Tessa,” he demanded, “stop talking in riddles. What do you mean?”

Did she know? Did she know about Livvy, and Ty, and deaths and necromance? It didn’t make any sense. How could she have known?

“Kit. I shouldn’t be interfering this way. I’m sorry, I- I just want your best. And I think what you and Ty are planning to do will bring consequences you’re not ready for.”

“Tessa, stop... “ he started saying, but the line went dead. “Tessa?”

…

Nineteenth of October, 2019

With musical notes running through his ears to his brain, thoughts drowning out to the sound of the piano and the violins, Kit felt good. Comfortable, even. Which was a rarity in recent days.

Since Tessa’s call, Kit couldn’t stop thinking. Thinking about Livvy, about Ty, the resurrection, the discrepancy between right and wrong and everything in between. About how Tessa and Jem and Johnny and even Mina, if she was aware of anything, would be disappointed in him.

Because, as much as he didn’t even believe in obscure rituals, it was a universal truth that one should not play God.

“But was exactly happened?” Kit asked over the music coming from Ty’s phone, thrown over scrawled papers on the table. “You never told me.”

Ty shrugged, turning to the other side and looking at the window. “I thought you already knew. Everyone knows.”

“I don’t talk to many people, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Ty smiled faintly, fiddling with a few elastic bands that were scattered around the room. “I did notice. But I thought your curiosity would have some advantage over your disdain for human lives.”

“I don’t hate human lives.” Kit put the final letter in his crossword, turning the page to start another one. “I just hate what humans do with them.”

“Well, Livvy didn’t do anything wrong with her life. At all.” Ty got up from his chair to open the window and continued to face the infinite green of the forest. “It wasn’t her fault. My family is just… Caught up with some bad business.”

“Oh my god.” Kit sat up straighter and let his pencil and almanac fall from his hands. “Don’t tell me you’re from one of those rich and secretly corrupt families.”

Ty huffed and sat back on the chair, looking at Kit’s direction and grinning slightly. “Sorry.”

“Oh no,” Kit whined as he dropped his shoulders in disappointment. “I thought you were different from everyone else! I thought you were, like, super smart, and had gotten in by effort and talent. What a shame.”

“I’m still, like, super smart,” Ty mocked. “And I could still get in by effort and talent. My family just happens to have a lot of money.”

“Dirty money,” Kit corrected, and Ty didn’t disagree.

“But how did you get in here, if Tessa and Jem aren’t that rich?”

“It could’ve been for my incredible potential and excessive charm.”

“It wasn’t.”

“But it could have!” Kit exclaimed, and Ty laughed. As always, he felt a bit of pride in making Ty laugh. “But, to be honest, I don’t know.” Kit put his almanac aside to lie on the bed, pulling the overflowing blankets to cover his legs. “Maybe they know someone who got me in. Maybe they blackmailed the principal. Maybe they’re extremely rich and failed to tell me. I don’t wanna be intrusive by asking them.”

Ty hummed, walking to the bed and sitting next to Kit’s lying body. “I think they’re running a drug cartel and you don’t know it.”

“They certainly look the type.”

…

Second of November, 2019

“It’s less than a month away!”

Kit’s bed dipped beside him, Ty’s knees forcing the springs down, his hands shaking Kit awake.

“What is?” He rubbed his eyes, looking at Ty’s glowing face.

“Thanksgiving! Dear Lord, Christopher, we’ve been working on this for months now, and you forgot?”

Oh. Right. Thanksgiving. Livvy. Necromancy. Because that was a thing Kit did, apparently.

“What day is Thanksgiving anyway?”

“The twenty-eight,” Ty answered as he tore the covers off the bed and pulled Kit out. “And we need to research more. Livvy’s been trying to hide my books, so I don’t quite know some stuff yet.”

“I-” He stumbled as Ty pulled him to the wardrobe, pushing clothes into his hands. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to be here, though.”

Ty stopped dead in his track, still holding one of Kit’s coffee-stained shirts. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t- I don’t know, maybe Tessa and Jem want me home for the holidays or something.”

“But you told me they always let you decide if you want to go or not.”

“I- um- Yeah, but I always choose to go, and now they have a kid, so I have a sister, and it’s a family holiday, and I-” Kit looked at Ty straight in the face, but the boy was staring impassively at the ground. “I just think it’s better if I go home.”

“You told me you would stay with me. You lied,” Ty’s voice wavered. “Of course you lied.”

“No, Ty, I- I swear I-”

“Shut up,” Ty snapped. “You lied to me, and now you’re running away like you always do.” He threw Kit’s clothes on the floor. “I don’t need your help anyway.”

“Ty!” Kit cried out, but the boy was already slamming the door in his face.

…

Ninth of November, 2019

The usually windy weather had turned horribly still. Kit disintegrated on top of the roof, his eyes burning and his lower lip quivering.

“Ty,” he called. “Ty, I’m so sorry, I…”

The boy was near the edge of the building, looking down like the Wanderer above the Sea of Fog. He was in his most natural state, with his white headphones around his neck, his coat fluttering behind him, and a large green book in his hands.

"I found what I needed," Ty replied. "I can do the full ritual now."

"Ty, I’ll be here, I swear I’ll be here, I’m so sorry, I-"

Ty turned to look at Kit. His face was also red and tear-streaked. "Are you lying again?"

“No,” Kit shook his head. “I'm not lying. I'll be with you, Ty, I promise.”

“Kit…” Ty extended his trembling hands, and Kit rushed to him, enveloping his body with his arms, squeezing tight. “Kit, it's my sister… Livvy-” he sniffed, and Kit felt his coat growing wetter under Ty’s face. “Livvy died, and I- It’s all my fault, Kit, I have to bring her back, I-”

“Hey,” Kit whispered, “it’s okay. We’re gonna be okay.”

They had to, didn't they?

…

Sixteenth of November, 2019

“Tessa,” he said when she answered the phone. “Tessa, I need your help.”

The large window in front of him sizzled with the approaching storm. Students passed by, hurried and sluggish, with smiling and stressed faces. His red and blue clothes contrasted with the infinite dead grey of the walls, mixed with the dark wood of the baseboard and stairs that stood at the end of the corridor.

“Are you okay? Kit, are you safe?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He turned on his back to stare at the wall, not wanting to look at the other souls that roamed Scholomance. “I just… You do know, don’t you?”

Tessa went silent for several unbearable seconds, in which Kit only thought of smashing his cell phone against the wall and throw himself out of the window to another infinite grey.

“Yes,” she answered. “I know.”

“What can I do? Tessa-” his voice cracked. “Tessa, I can’t do it. But I have to.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Yes,” he cut in. “Yes, I do. It’s his sister, Tessa. He’s not gonna give up. And I can’t leave him alone.”

“There are some things that are inevitable,” she sighed. “I understand. But home will always be waiting for you, okay? If anything goes wrong… Or, if you change your mind, Jem and I will always be here, no matter what.”

“Okay.” He turned to stare back at the window, getting very close to it, on his tiptoes, hand on the glass. “I’ll go home if I have to.”

…

Twenty-third of November, 2019

Livvy’s ghost floated above him, her figure more opaque than Kit had ever seen. Her face was twisted in anger, her greenish-blue eyes pierced through his body, her long hair cascading behind her.

“You have to stop him.”

Kit sat up in bed, looking at his sleeping roommate on the other side of the room. Sweat pooled on his forehead, his shirt sticking to his torso. The cold and nausea that came with Livvy’s presence spread over him so hard he felt dizzy.

“I would if I could, Livs.”

“You can.”

“You don’t understand, he doesn’t listen, he-”

“You haven’t even tried!” she shouted, flying to bring her face closer to Kit’s, eyes locked into his.

“I have. I- Livvy, you’re his twin. His twin, okay? His other half. He needs you.”

“You keep saying that I’m his sister,” she mumbled. “Have you forgotten he’s my brother? He might get hurt from all this. I can’t let him do it. And neither can you.”

“How could I ev-”

“Dude,” his roommate called from under the duvets. “Who the fuck are you talking to?”

“Sorry,” Kit said, looking through Livvy. “I was just talking to myself.”

She rolled her eyes and breathed, “Stop him,” before vanishing from the room.

…

Twenty-seventh of November, 2019

“Most kids are leaving today.” Ty took a sip from his cup of black coffee.

“Yeah,” Kit said as he shaded his drawing of one of the tables of the patio, where they were sitting. “I’m staying, though.”

“I know.”

The faint sunlight that hit them was not enough to warm Kit, as it seemed do be the default since the day he met Livvy. His fingers were cold and damp where he held the pencil, his fingers becoming stiff. What he really wanted to draw, his true muse, was right in front of him, with the lapels of his long coat facing up, a styrofoam cup in his hands, elbows resting on the marble table. His scrunched grey eyes said nothing about his expression, his mind distant since Kit threatened not to participate in the ritual.

“Do we have to fast all day?”

“Yes,” Ty replied, fiddling with the lid of his cup. “It would be better if we had abstained from everything a week ago, but just one day is enough.”

Enough. Just enough. Nothing extraordinary, nothing deeply disappointing. That was all Ty seemed to see.

“Do you already know how to make the circle?”

“Yes. The book I found had a very detailed drawing.”

“How nice.”

“Yes.”

The silence that passed through them sank in Kit’s eardrums, an unease rising in his legs. It was there again. The desire to escape.

Not from Ty. Never from Ty. But the situation they found themselves in, oh yes, Kit wanted to run away from it. Livvy. Black magic. Tessa’s omniscience over all the fucked up shit Kit got into.

Ty had said that the best time for these things was when the moon was full. Because holidays were the only time Scholomance was empty, they had to make do with the moon in a transition between new moon and first quarter. And it was also way more powerful to bring someone back in the place they had died.

“I didn’t know Livvy was killed here,” Kit had said.

Ty was underlining something in his Necromancy book at the time, the light from the candle in the library making him look like a renaissance painting. “Why do you think she’s wearing her uniform?”

“I never thought about it.”

But, apparently, their parents’ opposers had tried to kidnap her while she was wandering in the forest alone at night. It was a weekday, a school day, and nobody had seen her sneaking out. Livvy had disrespected the curfew to observe the starry sky that covered the trees and protected wild animals at midnight, and someone tried to take her. But Livvy, being like Livvy always was, had fought back. So they stuck a knife in her stomach.

That was why Ty also though it would be better to do it at night. More powerful. But Kit believed he was only doing it for the drama and aesthetics.

They spent the afternoon before the resurrection night drawing and reading in the dim sunlight in the schoolyard, watching the other students stuff their big bags into fancy cars and escape the hell they willingly decided to stay.

When the sun left the sky and darkness took over, they hurried to Ty’s room to pick up the chalk, the book, and the green candle they had reshaped to look like a sphere.

While Kit showered, ‘getting rid of the impurities’, as Ty had explained, he remembered Livvy coming into his room in the dead of the night begging him to stop Ty. He remembered Tessa talking about how some things get worse when one tries to fix them. He remembered himself, right after meeting Ty, knowing he would do anything to keep him safe.

Climbing the stairs to the roof, Kit stumbled a few times, unable to look away from Ty. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t risk losing him like that.

They took the chalk and, at the same time, drew the two parts of the necromantic wheel. Ty chanted the words in Latin, asking the spirit to show itself. When he threw Livvy’s locket in the middle of the circle, her ghost gradually appeared oven them.

“You can’t break the circle now,” Ty whispered to him.

They held hands, palms sweaty and chalk-stained brushing each other. The stars shined in the sky, burning white over darkness.

Livvy’s face seemed more and more desperate as her body became visible, her widened eyes turned to Kit, and her wrists locked together as if they were cuffed.

"Livia Blackthorn," Ty called. “Abyssus abyssum invocat in voce cataractarum tuarum; Omnia excelsa tua et fluctus tui super me transierunt. ”

Livvy started shaking her head, tears running down her face.

"Ty..." Kit whispered, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Ty, I don't think she's liking it."

Ty shook his arm free off Kit’s hold, chanting louder, “Hic mortui vivunt, hic mortui vivunt…”

“Ty-Ty,” Livvy cried, “Ty-Ty, don’t do this, don’t…”

“Igni ferroque, ex silentio, ex animo,” Ty was almost to a yelling point, eyes scrunched up. “Ex silentio, ex animo!”

Kit threw himself against Ty, knocking him out of the circle at the last minute. Livvy vanished, no trace left behind. The candle that stood at one end of the circle went out, the chalk erased in the part that Ty’s body had slid across the floor.

“Why did you do this?” Ty’s voice was shaky, his whole body trembling under Kit. “Why did you lie to me again?”

Kit shook his head. “You can’t do this to yourself.” He cupped Ty’s cheek with one hand. “These things have consequences, Ty. I can’t let you do it.”

“Stop it!” Ty screamed, batting Kit’s hand away. “Stop lying to me!”

“Ty…” Kit breathed, realizing there was nothing he could say that would make Ty forgive him. So he could as well tell the truth. “Ty, I love you. I love you.”

“You liar.” Ty hastily got up, rushing to the roof’s door. “I know you now. You can’t love anyone.”

He slammed the door behind himself, leaving Kit alone once again.

…

Ninth of December, 2019

Kit wandered through the Scholomance corridors, as cold and lifeless as they were when the year began, as cold and lifeless as Livia Blackthorn.

And all because of him. Because of him, Livvy was not there, glowing and full of energy, with a material body and veins full of blood. Because of him, Ty wasn’t there, either.

He knew he had done the right thing. Tessa had warned, as well of the several books that Ty and Kit had read under candlelight warned: one should not play God. One should not cross the boundaries between reality and spirits, let alone try to relocate someone from side to side. But Kit was no longer sure if doing the right thing was worth it.

He ran his fingers along the stone wall, following the school’s long hallways. His bags were packed, the holidays started on the next day. Tons of students were hurrying, carrying coats and personal objects from one place to another, wondering if they should take it home or leave it at school. Since Kit never had much, he was never in doubt.

Even immersed in his own pessimistic thoughts, he managed to chuckle when he saw the tall boy take his pornographic comics from under the bed and put them back quickly, looking around to make sure no one had seen it.

It looked like Kit was, again, absolutely alone.

…

Eleventh of December, 2019

“Here.” Tessa put the cup of tea in front of him and stroked his hair, sitting across from him at the kitchen table. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Nothing much,” he said as he took a sip of the scorching earl grey and thought ‘I fucked up Ifucked up I fucked up’.

He looked up at the blue tile that adorned the kitchen walls, trying to see figures in the cracks. Tessa stared at him shamelessly, putting the tea bag in her mug.

“So there was no reason for you to come home at the last minute?”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’ at the end of the word, turning his eyes back at Tessa. “No reason at all.”

“Stop bullshitting me.”

“Language!”

She sighed, shaking her head and dropping her hand from the yellow cup’s handle. “Just tell me what happened. I can help you.”

No, he thought. No, she couldn’t. Even if Tessa knew all about necromancy, ghosts, and black magic, she couldn’t bring Ty back. She couldn’t erase the betrayal Kit had just committed.

“I fucked up. Big time.”

"Not much different than what you usually do, then."

"Hey!" He looked at her indignantly. "Just because it's true doesn't mean that you can throw it in my face."

"If you don't tell me, I'm going to have to guess what happened," she threatened.

Kit leaned all the way back on the chair and gestured with his hand, “Go ahead.”

“You ran away without an explanation.”

"No."

"You refused to do the ritual."

"Not exactly."

"You realized you actually hated his sister and you did not want her back in this world."

“For someone who could easily tell I was involved with dark magic you are really bad at guessing,” he said as he took a sip. “And I don’t hate Livvy. She's pretty cool.”

Tessa smiled, making a bun with one of the pens thrown across the table. "Are you going to tell me what happened or not?"

Kit shrugged, giving up. “I stopped the ritual. We already had everything ready, and I... I threw him out of the circle. Even though I had told him I would help.”

"Christopher," she murmured and reached out to take his hand. “You did the right thing. He was going to rupture the fabric of the living world, and he was going to suffer serious consequences. You saved him.”

"I know." He squeezed her hand. "I know. But I also lost him in the process.”

"Then you should try to find him again." Tessa paused. "He hasn’t set his sister free, has he?"

“No,” he shook his head. "He just didn't resurrect her."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Then he'll try again." Kit took a deep breath. She was right, he would. "When do you think he'll try?"

“I don’t know. We didn’t think about the possibility that it wouldn’t happen that day.”

“He didn’t say anything? At all?”

“No, he didn’t-” Kit widened his eyes in realization. “Wait. He did. Oh god. Wait here, Tessa, I have to go back to Scholomance.”

…

Twelfth of December, 2019

“Ty!” Livvy screamed, her face twisted with affliction. “Ty, don’t do this. Ty-Ty…”

Kit came running, panting, tripping over the branches and leaves of the forest, but not letting himself fall.

“Ty, stop!” he yelled, but the boy kept declaiming the spell.

Ty was inside a circle of green fire, blood spread across the damp earth. The half-frozen lake was right behind him, reflecting the perfectly blue sky and its full moon. The most powerful night of the month.

His hand extended towards Livvy’s ghost, long coat lying on the floor next to him, hair plastered to his forehead with the sweat of his effort. He looked hauntingly beautiful, a master weaving the fabric of the universe once again.

“Ty, she doesn’t want that,” Kit pleaded. “Stop it.”

The boy opened his steel-grey eyes and turned his gaze to Kit, suddenly stopping his string of words.

“Get out. This is between me and my sister.”

“No,” Kit cried out. “No, you can’t say that to me.” He marched to the circle of fire, feeling the heat restrain the cold spilling from his bones. “Not to me, who was here from the start.”

Ty shook his head, contempt and disgust evident in his face. “From the start? Did you see her die?” He gestured to Livvy, who was crying insistently in one corner of the circle, trying to separate her magic-bound wrists. “No. You were in the hospital. Because you ran away. Like a coward.”

Kit deflated, tears burning in the back of his eyes. “Ty, I-”

“Don’t,” he snapped. “Don’t try to tell me what’s right and what’s wrong. You’re not the one who-” his voice cracked, and he closed his eyes shut, visibly trying not to cry. “You’re not the one who found your twin, your other half, lying dead in the forest.”

“Ty-Ty,” Livvy said between sobs. “Ty-Ty, I’m so sorry…”

“No.” He turned his head to look at her. “No, it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.”

“Ty,” Kit murmured. “You’re right. I wasn’t there. I’m not Livvy’s brother, I can’t possibly understand what you feel. But-” he knelt in front of the fire, in front of Ty, who was so hunched and seemed so fragile that they were almost the same height. “I know her. And I know you. Look at her,” he said, extending his arm towards the weeping girl. “She doesn't want to be brought back. She wants to be free.”

Ty stared at Livvy as if they were having a telepathic conversation that Kit couldn't understand. Ty knelt inside the circle, tears finally running down his face, hands rubbing his arms frantically. Livvy nodded, an answer to a question never asked aloud.

"What do I have to do?" Ty asked in a whisper, his eyes staring at the bloody floor.

Livvy approached him, her hands materializing to cup Ty’s cheeks in them. "Just let me go," she said, looking straight in his eyes.

Ty pressed his lips together and threw himself against Livvy, giving her almost-nonexistent body a tight hug. Soon enough, he was holding only air.

The fire immediately went out, leaving the place completely dark. Kit could only hear Ty's sobs getting louder and louder. He scrambled on his knees to get to the boy, reaching for him with open arms.

"What do you need?" he asked, grabbing Ty’s shoulders.

"Hold me."

And Kit did, tighter by the second. Ty’s smell, so uniquely him, filled Kit’s nose in a cloud of sickeningly sugary naphthalene and old books. He slowly rocked his body with Ty's from side to side as he whispered 'I love you, Ty. I love you.'

…

Twenty-fourth of December, 2019

Kit tried to get out of bed without stepping on Ty, but it was almost impossible. The mattress he and Jem had put for the boy to sleep covered the entire floor of Kit's room, so for him to get out of bed, the question was no longer 'how can I get out of here without disturbing him' and became 'how can I disturb him without leaving bruises'.

Kit managed to step on exactly the places that were just blankets, leaving the room successfully. Tessa and Jem were in the hall, little Min-Min in Tessa's arms, drooling in her t-shirt.

"Kit," Jem said with a smile. "Good Morning. The three of us have to go downtown for a few hours to sort out supper. Do you think you two will be okay alone?”

"Of course." Kit leaned over the dining table and crossed his arms in front of him. "Don't you want to leave Mina with us?"

"I don’t trust you two not to drop her into the ground." Tessa gave him a kiss on the cheek. "No offense."

"All offense taken!"

The three went out of the apartment door, leaving Kit alone with Ty and the butterflies in his stomach. He went to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee that Jem always made in the morning and a cup of tea for himself.

"Ty, are you awake?" he asked as he entered his room again and bent down to hand the mug of black coffee to the boy, who was rubbing his eyes to ward off sleep.

“Thanks,” Ty muttered.

Kit sat on the edge of the mattress and watched Ty, all sleepy eyes and disheveled hair, drinking his coffee.

After the events of the last full moon, Ty was so tired and so confused and so lost that he confessed to Kit that he didn't think he could go home and face his father and the rest of his siblings. Then Kit, with the consent of Tessa and Jem, asked if he would like to spend the holiday with him. He said yes.

Their days together were full of reading books in the afternoon, bottles of cheap wine stolen to drink at night, and secret looks when one thought the other was not looking. Kit couldn't be happier.

Tessa and Jem also found themselves quite fond of Ty, especially when the boy showed an interest in the literature that Tessa read in her spare time and the violin that Jem played professionally.

"You know how to play the violin?" he had asked Ty in disbelief.

Ty shrugged. “It’s Sherlock Holmes’ instrument of preference.”

He never failed to amaze Kit.

The days passed, the weather outside the apartment cold as the summit of winter always was, but Kit was full of warmth. Christmas ornaments adorned the dining room, cheesy songs resonated from the old radio, and Jem found a new themed sweater to wear every day.

"What do you wanna do today?" Kit got up from the mattress and took the empty mug from Ty's hands, heading to the kitchen.

“I'm good with whatever you choose. We're going to have supper at night, right?”

"Right." Kit put the mugs in the sink, leaning on the counter and turning to Ty. “I have something to give you. I didn't want Jem and Tessa to see it.”

"Okay." Ty was quiet for a few seconds, standing in front of Kit and staring at something near his shoulder. "Aren't you going to give it to me now?"

"Yes," Kit stood up straight and hurried to the bedroom. "Yes, of course."

Under a pile of books, on top of his desk that was squeezed in one corner of the room, was his expensive pad of watercolor paper. He only used it for special paintings, only those that mattered. Once, a portrait of his father, just before he died in the hospital. His eyes were sunken, his skin pale, his body thin, all affected by terminal cancer. After, he used it to paint Tessa and Jem, dancing together, his saviors represented in much more vivid colors than the previous painting. Then, it was one of several times that he drew Scholomance, with its dark tones, and full of detail. And before that school year started, he painted Mina's sweet face, crumpled against her baby blue blanket.

The painting he handed Ty, his arms outstretched and his head turned down in embarrassment, was done in shades of blue and magenta, the lineart in deep purple, full of swirls and splashes of watercolor. It was a portrait; him in one corner, grinning, and Ty in the other, a little shyer, his hands holding his white headphones. And in the middle, in the center of the page, Livvy, with her face much more alive than Kit had ever seen. She was all flushed cheeks, sparkling eyes and a mischievous smirk.

Ty stared at the thick sheet of paper for a long time, so much that Kit started to feel uncomfortable, waiting for the boy's disapproval.

Ty softly put the painting on top of Kit’s bed and walked slowly until facing Kit.

"Thank you," the boy said, and threw himself against Kit, his arms curling around his torso. Kit hugged him back, squeezing him tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

They stood there for a while, on Ty's mattress, heartbeats in sync, bodies so close together that they were almost merging together.

Ty slowly started to walk away, a smile playing on his face. “So that's why you drew me so much? Practice?"

"What?" Kit furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "How do you know that-"

"I looked at your sketchbook," Ty cut in. "I was too curious, sorry."

"Oh my god," Kit flushed when he remembered the multiple pages he took up with drawings of Ty's face. "I can’t believe you saw them."

“Sorry,” Ty repeated as he giggled. "I know I shouldn't have."

"No, you shouldn't." Several images of sketches of Ty sitting in the library, Ty in the middle of class, and even Ty asleep came to Kit's mind, who flushed even harder. “Oh my god, you must be so creeped out. Dear lord.”

Ty laughed, shaking his head. “I think it was kind of cute. Would you say I’m your muse?”

"Oh my god."

Ty laughed even harder, and, through his embarrassment, Kit felt a bit of pride in making him laugh like that.

"Hey, Kit," Ty called. "Can I ask you something?"

Kit nodded, a bit intimidated.

"That night, in the library... Were you going to kiss me?"

Kit leaned against the table, his hands gripping wood, knuckles turning white. "Were you going to kiss me?" he replied, trying to avoid his own answer.

"Yes."

Kit took a deep breath, feeling his stomach turn over - Had Ty really said that? Tiberius Nero Blackthorn, the next Sherlock Holmes, the boy with a beautiful face and an extraordinary smile, had said that if it weren't for Professor Cockblocker, he would have kissed Kit?

He could only be hallucinating. Again.

"Good to know."

"Would you have liked that?"

If Kit would have liked if Ty kissed him? That could only be a joke.

"Yes."

"Would you like that now?"

Kit looked at him, looked at his raven-black curls and his marble-white skin and his steel-gray eyes. He looked at the soft curve of Ty’s lips, at the blush on his cheekbones, at the curve of his neck that Kit had carefully drawn over and over again.

Kit held out his hands, pulling Ty's face toward him and finally - finally - caught Ty's lips with his own.

They were both panting, desperate, pulling each other closer and closer, dragging their mouths against skin, against lips, against everything they could feel and touch.

Kit, not for the first time, came to the realization he would do anything for Tiberius Blackthorn.

...

First of January, 2020

Laughter filled the dark room, the sky in the window lit by fireworks that were several minutes late.

“Do you think,” Kit started, his relentless laughter and Ty's giggles interrupting him, “that Jem and Tessa would notice if we sneaked out?”

Ty chuckled, tightening his hold on Kit’s hand and supporting his head on the crook of his neck. "Trying to run away again, runner?"

"Maybe," he conceded. "But I wanted to show you something."

Kit got up from the bed, pulling Ty along. The two staggered, half dizzy from all the laughter and joy they experienced at the New Year's party. Kit guided his now-boyfriend to the kitchen, bringing his index finger to his mouth to signal that they should be quiet, since Jem, Tessa, and Mina were already asleep.

"You wanted to show me the leftovers for supper?" Ty whispered.

"No, dumbass." Kit swatted his hand away when he tried to grab a pot inside the fridge. "We’re going out." He let out a soft ‘aha’ when he found the greenish bottle he was looking for. Cheap wine, the best wine.

Ty chuckled and shook his head, but followed him through the door and the building’s stairs anyways.

The night was chilly, but it was nothing like Livvy’s ghostly coldness. Kit was warm and content with Ty by his side, their fingers tangled together and laughter filling the air.

“Here it is,” Kit said when they reached the old bookstore that stood nestled among the building he lived in and a grocery shop. “Let’s go inside. I think you’ll like it.”

"But it’s closed."

“Of course it’s closed. Is New Year!" Kit exclaimed as he knelt in front of the heavy wooden door, rested the wine bottle on the floor, and picked up the bobby pins he had stolen the year before from his pocket.

Ty chuckled, turning around to see if anyone was near. “I can’t believe we’re doing this."

The interior of the bookstore was dark, but Kit knew where they kept the candles. He had spent several afternoons there, talking to the attendants and picking up bookmarks when no one was looking.

"This is it," Kit signed with a tilt of his head to the staircase behind a bookshelf.

Ty followed him, still looking around and picking up some books on the way.

The stairs had potted plants on the wall and quotes from classics like Shakespeare taped to the wall in cursive plastic letters that were beginning to wear off. The bookstore building had three floors, two of which were available for buying and selling books and accessories, and the third reserved for storage and book club meetings.

They climbed the creaking stairs to the top floor, facing another heavy wooden door that Kit had to break in.

They walked between corridors of books, stacked on the floor and on top of tables and chairs, and took some blankets that were thrown over loveseats that made a circle right in the middle of the room.

Kit guided him to the large window that had its glass plates placed in a way that looked like a Gothic window design that could be seen in some corners of the Scholomance. Kit managed to open them, beckoning to Ty to jump out with him.

The two descended from the parapet, landing on the concrete floor. In front of the window was an extension of the building, which was previously a balcony, but the bookshop owners closed the wall so the place would not get as much wind.

The place had clearly not been cleaned in a long time, since the only possible access was by jumping out the window, with cans tossed and dust accumulating. It also had no railing in the front, leaving the place fully exposed. Kit had been dizzy the first time he had been there, knowing that one more step and he could fall, without any security.

"There are still fireworks," Ty observed. "It's already four in the morning."

"People here like to party."

The fireworks in the sky united with the bright stars and the moon in first-quarter formed a picturesque sight. Kit and Ty laid their blankets and books on the ground, next to the candle Kit had picked up on the counter, sitting down to look at the huge blue above them and the small part of the city visible from the third floor of the bookstore.

Someone in the house a few blocks ahead shouted "Happy New Year!", And Kit shouted back, making Ty chuckle and squeeze his body closer to himself.

"Can you answer me something?" Ty asked, right next to his ear.

"Anything."

“When you tried to escape last year,” he started, fiddling with the hem of the fluffy blanket around them and making Kit freeze into place, “did you fall out of the roof or did you jump?”

"Ty ..." he tensed his shoulders, trying to hide inside his own body. "I don't- I don't even know what-"

“Just answer me. You don’t have to explain anything.”

That night. That god awful night. Kit was so done with everything, with everyone. His head kept screaming at him, he couldn’t think, couldn’t process, couldn’t move. Next thing he remembered, he was in a white room at the hospital, the smell of antiseptic and blood filling his nostrils, Tessa and Jem crying next to him.

"I just wanted to leave," Kit huffed. “It didn’t matter how.”

Ty looked at him seriously, taking his hand to Kit's and squeezing hard. "So you jumped."

Kit agreed, "So I jumped."

He nodded, shuffling even closer to Kit’s body, holding him tight. They stayed there in silence for a couple minutes, just enjoying each other’s presence. Kit traced circles in Ty’s back, who smiled sweetly and picked up the blanket every time it fell from Kit’s shoulder.

“Hey, Kit,” Ty started again. “Can I say something else?”

Kit chuckled. “Yes, you can.”

“I love you too.”

After that, they spent hours there, looking at each other, reading book passages under candlelight, telling stories about Johnny and L.A., Livvy and the Blackthorn Hall, until the sun rose in shades of red, orange and yellow, which Kit would paint with watercolor the next day.

And Kit knew, knew with all his flesh, mind and bones, that, in Tiberius Blackthorn’s arms, he had no other choice: he had to stay.

**Author's Note:**

> I just realized this doesn’t pass the Bechdel test. Guess I’ll have to write a lesbian romance now to make up for it
> 
> Leave some comments or kudos if you like this, it would make my day :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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